


just humor us achilles

by itscoolbabe



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Achilles Come Down, Inspired by Music, M/M, Most characters are briefly mentioned, POV Achilles (Song of Achilles), Sad, Sort of? - Freeform, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, also sad, but it is sad, i finished the whole book in 6 hours and i listened to TWO fucking songs that got me crying, i wrote it in like an hour? 30 min? idk, inspired by a Gang of Youths Song, look - Freeform, the last time i cried SO hard over a book that i couldn't stop was a year ago, this is INVIGORATING YALL, this is inspired by one of them, u know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:22:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27986121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itscoolbabe/pseuds/itscoolbabe
Summary: It's chaos, confusionAnd wholly unworthyOf feeding and it's wholly untrue❝my dear love;if i said that i would beg on my knees to zeusto beg and plead and preysell my motherand fathermy landfor your lifewould you say it true?i made you swear it.i held your hand and i made you swear it.as i die i see that it was all in vain.i'll die barley a hero but i'll diemy love, can i still help you keep it?even if i'm dead i can call myself a heroand i'll be happy because of you❞
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus (Song of Achilles)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 51





	just humor us achilles

**Author's Note:**

> no beta, we die like that one little bitch in the beginning

It hurt. 

When had he hurt so much? Had he ever? When wasn't Patroclus there, before he came to his castle, to look at him with wonder? Talk to him with the slightest bit of hate and anger, maybe even jealousy. It didn't hurt him back then, the words and tone always sounded sad, and the boy even more so. 

Patroclus who, when he warmed to Achilles smiled something so beautiful, he knew that the boy would call him a liar, frown and the smile would be wiped away in a second. The boy who had killed a boy, who was small and thin and could barely look someone in the eye. Whose eyes were dead and hollow except for the slightest light from spite? He was Achilles' fist love. 

His _true_ love. 

His _only_ love. 

_Love._

And now, after begging Achilles, on his knees and his own hands on his crying face like rags, to _save them! Please save them_! He had refused. Had agreed for Patroclus to go in his steed is being carried. Dragged. Hauled in like a sheep who had been slaughtered. Odysseus had the virtue to look sorry, eyebrows creased and mouth tight as he carries the body. 

He screamed. 

His chest hurt. He felt his own ribs being torn open. Felt the spear being pulled out of him and felt it pierce his stomach. Wished and prayed and screamed. 

His love. His love. His love. His love. 

Patroclus. Patroclus. Patroclus. Patroclus. 

Come back. I'm sorry. Forgive me. I beg you. I love you. I love you. 

Achilles gathers Patroclus in his arms as if he were about to shatter into a million pieces, his arms gather him with desperation, fine hands spread and caress and dirt and blood-smeared face. 

Even dead and filthy it's beautiful. His eyes are closed as if he were asleep, but even when asleep Patroclus had life. His chest rose and fell, his eyelashes sometimes fluttered and there was a hue to his bronze skin, it made him look godly. Now. Now his tears make clean streaks to the bloodless cheeks, cleaning them. 

He's still screaming. Begging as he pulls his Patroclus close to him. Everyone has left. No one is there but he and Patroclus. In his arms and so still. Why was he so still? _Why_? 

"Patroclus! Patroclus!" He's staring down at him. But he's no there. Even through the tears, he's so _beautiful_. 

Standing is a struggle. His legs shake and his chest heaves, Achilles stops for no one and heads to the tent that has been their home for ten years. Theirs. 

It's cold. 

Empty.

"Please, please. Wake up... please... you need to... I beg of you." Achilles lies the man down on their bed, gently as if he were sleeping and sobs when he sees the holes in his wide chest, the same place where he had once caressed. He can't take the lack of him and gathers him back in his arms.

"Don't touch."

...

"I said don't touch him!"

It hurts. Patroclus. Patroclus. Please, come back. 

"I'm sorry, Patroclus come back to me. Why... why aren't you here?"

He pulls the body closer, buries his nose in the long neck of the man, and when he breathes in the scent isn't Patroclus, and Achilles cries harder even yet.

No blooming light, no person to hold him and kiss him, to trace his skin like it was made of the finest gold. No Patroclus to see smile, to hear speak, to eat dinner with, and to gossip with. Achilles is alone. Feels it in the hollow of his chest, all he can do is cry. 

"It's your fault he's dead! You should have died instead!"

"I want to." 

He does. He really does. There is no Patroclus, not person to look at, to marvel at. To love. There is no one here who matters. Not his mother and her hatred for Patroclus and not... not anyone. He wants to die. He needs to die. His chest hasn't stopped hurting. 

What fame? What reputation? Divinity, did it even matter? Was the promise of it ever worth more than the man that he loved? No, it wasn't. Never has been and yet, he let it happen. What was short-lived pain when his Patroclus wasn't here anymore?

He wants to die. 

No one can hit him right. No one can land a perfect blow. No mortal. 

Looking at the wall he thinks about falling. Over and over until his bones are like a broken vase and his life is gone. He wants to die. To be with Patroclus. 

To embrace him. To taste him. To hear his words be spoken, to hear him barret him and tell him he's wrong. To... to... Achilles wants to beg for him to come back to him. 

When he hears the arrow coming he knows who helped. Turning around he smiles up at the god. he thinks he sees shock, maybe even slight anger. He doesn't mean thanks but the relief that flows throw him as he feels the arrow pierce his heart is almost euphoric. He doesn't feel the fall, he's dead before he even hits the ground. 

And then he waits. And waits. And who is this boy? His son? Why?

Leave. Be quiet! Shut up! No! 

Please...

When he's buried, he's mixed with Patroclus but he isn't with him after. Why? 

Does... he not love him? Patroclus...

When he does come to him Achilles can feel his smile against his skin. Even while dead he can feel the warmth of his hands, the roughness of the fingers, and the devotion in them. He's dead. He's gone. And he has his Patroclus. 

In his arms and he's not still, he's not gone. He's still dead but so is he and he's happy.

**Author's Note:**

> all i have to say it that i fell asleep at 2 am and now its 7:30 pm and the most ive don't today is cry :)
> 
> i love and hate it here i'll forever be in pain thank you! the poem in the summery was written by me btw 
> 
> besitos babes!
> 
> p.s—sleep enough to get through the day (at least!) eat enough food and drink water, stay healthy cuties (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)


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